Don't You Want Me
by So-delightful
Summary: Blaine's life changes when Kurt Hummel, the head cheerio and his secret crush, mistakes him for a stranger at a party and kisses him. When Kurt starts texting him, Blaine decides to hide his true identity in the hope that Kurt will fall in love with him.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Blaine Anderson is painfully shy and avoids any opportunity to socialise with people. His life changes one day when head cheerio Kurt Hummel, his secret crush, mistakes him for a stranger at a party and kisses him. When Kurt starts texting him two days later, Blaine decides to take on the persona of the attractive, mystery guy Kurt thought he met at the party. Can Blaine conceal his true identity long enough for Kurt to fall in love with him? (Nerd!Blaine/Cheerio!Kurt)

**Authors note:** I wasn't going to write this fic, and then I did, and now I'm having too much fun to stop. (Also because nerd!Blaine is the most adorable character ever and I just want to hug him forever). I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>As soon as he entered the room Blaine knew that this was the last place he wanted to be. Finding himself trapped in a cramped, stifling room full of his older brother's drunken friends (most of whom went to his school and had never spoken a word to him) was his idea of a nightmare. Blaine hated parties. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been to one. Being labelled as a hopelessly socially inept nerd had its advantages: nobody invited him to parties or expected him to attend. He could spend his Friday and Saturday nights at home happily studying or reading a good book without having to worry about making excuses for his social phobia.<p>

Until now, that is. Unfortunately, his brother Nathaniel had taken it upon himself to rescue his younger brother from his lack of popularity and had concocted a plan to improve Blaine's social skills: he would drag Blaine along to one of his weekly parties and _force_ him to socialise with people. Not only had he managed to succeed in pressuring Blaine to go along with his plan (Blaine hated not being able to stand up to Nat), he had also confiscated Blaine's thick-framed glasses and hair gel in an effort to minimise the damage created by his stereotypically nerdy appearance.

"But I need glasses to see," Blaine had protested weakly, hoping that his brother would see sense if he pointed out the problem in a reasonable manner.

"You'll be in a small room – it'll be fine," Nat had said, unconcerned. "Besides, you want girls to like you, right? Without these you'll have sixty per cent more chance of getting laid before you're twenty-five."

"Yeah….right," Blaine had muttered. He couldn't tell his brother that girls were the least of his problems. The last thing he wanted was for Nat to find out that he had been bullied mercilessly after a popular football player had caught Blaine staring blankly at him one day in gym class and suggested to all his friends that Blaine had a crush on him. He hadn't even come out to his few friends in glee club yet, let alone his family. Just the thought of Nat knowing that people in his grade threw slushies at him and whispered _"fag"_ in his ear as they passed filled him with fear and shame. He couldn't bear Nat to think he was even weaker than he already appeared.

At first the party hadn't been so bad. Apart from a few pitying glances thrown his way, the majority of Nat's friends had completely ignored his presence. He'd wandered around a little at first, hoping the movement would hide the fact that nobody was talking to him, and had retreated to standing awkwardly near a corner with his back to the wall.

After that it had just got worse. The music got louder and louder and the room became stifling as Nat's friends got drunker and their dancing became less inhibited. Blaine felt overwhelmed by the lack of air and the blurry, pulsing mass of bodies that filled his vision. His feet hurt from standing and his head ached. He caught a vague sight of Nat close by and felt a stab of resentment that his brother wasn't helping to make introductions for him like he'd promised but was instead hanging off the shoulder of a pretty blonde who Blaine recognised as a cheerleader. Of course Nat didn't really care about him enough to make this experience less of a nightmare. His social life and popularity would always come before his brother.

By this time, several of Nat's friends were so drunk that they no longer seemed to care who he was and instead kept trying to get him to dance with them.

"No, really, I can't dance," Blaine tried to protest as he was dragged into the pulsating mass by a giggling senior. He tried to get away but found himself trapped between several girls.

"Oh come on, don't be so shy" one of them pleaded. "Just dance. It's fun."

"Ooh, you're not _nearly_ drunk enough," another giggled as Blaine tried to get away with just awkwardly shifting to the music. "Do something with your arms,"

"I have to go," Blaine mumbled. He managed to push his way past them, face burning with heat. Once he had escaped from the drunken throng, his eyes fell on the drinks table beside the wall. _Alcohol._ Suddenly he no longer cared about his previous reluctance to drink or to lose composure. He was going to consume as much alcohol as he could to drown his embarrassment and sorrows, and hopefully later he would throw up on Nat or that pretty cheerleader he was dancing with. Filled with resolve, he edged past two seniors who were grinding together as if their lives depended on it and made his way over to the alcohol table.

Without reading the label, he grabbed the nearest bottle and poured himself a cupful, before turning around and running smack bang into something solid in front of him. The person he had run into staggered backwards with a small "oof!" and Blaine stumbled towards him, slopping alcohol all over his shirt.

"Oh my god!" the boy exclaimed as he clasped a hand to his shirt.

Blaine let his gaze slide upwards to the boy's face and froze. It was Kurt Hummel. Breathtakingly beautiful Kurt Hummel, captain of the cheerleading team and probably the most popular person in the entire school. Kurt Hummel, who had thrown an ice-cold slushie in his face on his first day at McKinley. Kurt Hummel, the boy he'd been fantasising about ever since he was sure that he was into boys. _He had just spilled alcohol on Kurt Hummel_. Blaine stared at the front of Kurt's shirt in horror. Everybody knew how much Kurt loved fashion, and how much care he took in selecting a different designer outfit for every day of the year (when he wasn't wearing his cheerios uniform). That shirt had probably cost him more money than Blaine had ever owned in his life.

Blaine stared at Kurt's shocked expression and began to babble. "Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I didn't see you – god – I'm sorry – I'll just – can I help you clean it off – oh my god."

Blaine braced himself, preparing for the inevitable tirade. This would surely earn him slushie-facials for the rest of the year. In fact, he was sure that his lonely yet pleasantly uneventful life in Lima was over. He might as well flee the country and lay low for the rest of his high school years.

Instead of the anger he was expecting, however, Kurt actually laughed and stumbled forwards, steadying himself by grabbing onto Blaine's shoulder.

"You owe me a new shirt," he slurred, stabbing a finger into Blaine's chest. "And maybe a candle-lit dinner at Breadsix – Breadstix. Hey, you're cute."

Blaine flushed. Kurt was clearly very drunk. He was also heavy, and Blaine had to take him by the shoulders to stop him from falling over.

"Oops!" Kurt said happily.

Blaine flinched as the wet part of Kurt's shirt pressed against his arm.

"Hey, d'you know where I can get a towel or something?" Kurt asked. "There's like, half a litre of vodka soaking through my shirt and that can't be good for my skin."

"Of course," Blaine stammered. "Just – come with me."

Nat's best friend Andrew was hosting the party, so Blaine knew the house fairly well. He steered Kurt out of the room and led him down a dark corridor to what he hoped was a linen closet. Pulling open the door, he was relieved to see shelves of sheets and towels inside. He grabbed a hand towel and turned around to pass it to Kurt, who was humming cheerfully and in the process of taking off his shirt. Blaine swallowed and tried not to stare as Kurt's hands clumsily worked at the buttons, revealing a long rectangle of pale skin.

"You're lucky," Kurt said as he shrugged himself out of the sleeves and dabbed at his stomach with the hand towel. "I bought that on sale."

Blaine barely heard what he said. He had already snatched the damp shirt out of Kurt's grip and was desperately scrubbing it with another towel. "It'll be fine," he said. "Just – just wash it when you get home and it'll be fine."

Kurt tried to grab the shirt from Blaine and ended up falling onto him. "You're sweet," he slurred, patting Blaine on the shoulder. "Can I borrow your shirt?"

"Um, no," Blaine said. "But I can find you another one." He dragged Kurt further down the corridor into a bedroom at the end. Hoping that Andrew wouldn't mind, he dug through a pile of shirts in the closet until he found one at the bottom that probably wouldn't be missed. He cringed when he realised that it was bright green and had a Transformers design on the front. "Here," he said, thrusting it at Kurt.

Kurt took it and then wrinkled his nose. "Wait – is this – is it synset – synthetic?"

"Oh no," Blaine said, panicking. "It's pure silk." His brain seemed to have blanked out. _What was he doing?_ He couldn't dress _Kurt Hummel_ in a Transformers T-shirt. The world wouldn't forgive him.

"Okay," Kurt said, apparently satisfied with Blaine's answer. He struggled to get the shirt on, succeeding on the second try. "Wow. I need some air. C'mere."

He linked his arm around Blaine's and dragged him back along the corridor to the party. Once they had entered the room, Blaine attempted to wriggle free so that he could disappear back to his corner, but Kurt's grip on his arm had suddenly become iron tight and he found himself being led outside before his brain realised what was happening. Kurt steered them around a corner to the back of the house.

"Sit with me," he said. He sat down on the edge of a concrete step, pulling Blaine down with him. It was cool outside and much quieter than in the house, though the pulsing base line of the music could still be heard.

Kurt crossed his legs and looked up the dark sky, smiling. "You're totally my knight in shining armour," he said, turning to stare at Blaine from under his long eyelashes.

Blaine blushed. "Yeah…well, it was my fault anyway. I just hope you're not upset about the shirt."

"Oh, c'mon," Kurt said teasingly, leaning into Blaine. "How could I be upset that a cute guy spilled his drink on me?" He battered his eyelashes. "Hey, how come I've never seen you before?"

"Um," Blaine said. Kurt clearly had no idea who he was. He shifted slightly, hoping the darkness would prevent Kurt from suddenly recognising him and realising what a loser he was.

"Cos you're like, _really_ cute. You like me, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Blaine stammered. His face flushed again as he recalled some of his less innocent fantasies.

"Good, 'cos I really wanna kiss you. You're gorgeous. We should make out."

Blaine didn't have time to think of a response before Kurt launched at him, grabbing Blaine's face with his hands and pressing his lips against Blaine's lips. Blaine froze. His fantasies had not prepared him for the _realness_ of kissing. Kurt's breath tasted like alcohol and he was clasping Blaine so tightly that his fingers were digging uncomfortably into Blaine's neck. And yet he was so close that Blaine could barely breathe and he was kissing Blaine like his life depended on it, his lips amazingly soft and moist. Blaine forced himself to unfreeze. He nervously slid his hand over Kurt's cheek and kissed back, trying to match Kurt's rhythm. His stomach gave an excited flutter as Kurt moaned into the kiss.

After a few moments Blaine realised that Kurt's right hand had left his cheek and was now sliding its way up his thigh. He felt a rush of heat travel down through his torso to his groin. Nat's comment about his lack of glasses getting him laid had seemed ridiculous only hours ago, and yet here he was – flushed and extremely turned on as _Kurt Hummel _stroked his inner thigh. His head felt light and dizzy and he tried not to think about the fact that he was embarrassingly half-hard in his pants. However, just as he thought that Kurt's hand was going to slide right over his groin (Blaine's heart nearly skipped a beat), it suddenly changed direction and slid into his pocket instead. Kurt broke the kiss and made a small triumphant sound as he pulled Blaine's cell phone from his pocket and started typing.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked stupidly. He still felt slightly dazed.

"Giving you my number, of course," Kurt said. He was frowning as he typed, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

"You're really cute," Blaine blurted out. His heart was pounding. He felt as if he had been waiting years to say that.

Kurt merely smiled and finished saving his number. He passed the cell phone back to Blaine and looked up with a crooked grin. "Wanna make out again?"

"Uh, sure," Blaine said, standing up. "Just, uh, let me get a drink first." His mouth had suddenly gone dry and he desperately wanted a glass of water.

"Oh yeah, get one for me too!" Kurt called after him. He stretched his legs out with a sigh and looking at the starry sky again.

Blaine stumbled back inside, head reeling. He couldn't believe what had just happened. A few minutes ago he had never kissed anyone and had harboured no hopes of this situation changing, at least not in the conceivable future, and now _Kurt Hummel had kissed him_. Kurt Hummel, who thought he was cute without his glasses. "This is the best night of my life," Blaine thought as he made his way over to the drinks table. To his dismay, Andrew intercepted him before he could get there.

"Hey man, Nat's been in some trouble. I think you should take him home."

"What?" Blaine replied.

"He got into fight with this guy. I think he's okay, but yeah, you should probably get him home before anything else can happen. Tell him I asked you to. And tell him it's his own damn fault for hitting on girls who are spoken for."

Blaine stared at him, his hopes sinking. "But I can't leave. I've got – I mean there's this guy – wait, Nat got into a fight?"

"Uh huh. He'll have a black eye tomorrow at least. He's over by the stereo with Elizabeth."

"Right. Okay," Blaine said. He tried to ignore the disappointment that was twisting bitterly inside of him.

"Thanks man," Andrew said. "I know how much you hate parties, but I'm glad you're here tonight." He gave Blaine a pat on the shoulder and disappeared amongst the crowd.

Blaine stood frozen for a moment, biting his lip, before he sighed and went to find his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** I'm sorry that Nat isn't Cooper! I started writing this story before I found out about the Cooper spoilers, so Blaine's brother is entirely AU in this story. And entirely a plot device. Shhh.

* * *

><p>Blaine spent the next day in a haze of bliss. He could barely concentrate on his homework, his mind drifting constantly back to the events of the previous night. Part of him was still incredulous about what had happened. He had actually gone to a party—and yeah, it had been awkward and terrible for the most part—but the guy that Blaine had had a secret crush on for years had called him cute, had <em>kissed<em> him. And this wasn't just any guy. This was Kurt Hummel—head cheerleader and the most popular guy in the school. Blaine's concentration lapsed again as he pictured Kurt's perfect face and gorgeous blue eyes, trying to remember exactly what it had felt like when Kurt had slid his hands around his face and kissed him—dwelling on the recollection of Kurt's soft lips and his moist tongue darting forward into Blaine's mouth. He shivered at the thought. Not only that, but Kurt had actually given him his number. Blaine doodled hearts in the margin of his maths homework as he imagined himself calling Kurt and asking him on a date. He would buy Kurt flowers and take him out to dinner at Breadstix like Kurt had suggested—and maybe afterwards they would snuggle up in the back of Blaine's car and share breathless kisses, their hands entangled. Blaine smiled he scribbled a tiny BA + KH in one of the hearts, before snapping out of his reverie and blacking it out. As much as he wanted to call Kurt, his nerves prevented him from going through with it. Kurt had probably called his own phone or sent himself a text from Blaine's number at the party. Perhaps he should wait for Kurt to call first.

On Monday, Blaine awoke feeling less elated. Now that he was faced with the reality of seeing Kurt again, he was much less confident about his chances with someone like Kurt. He was a nobody, after all. People shoved him into lockers and called him names when they walked past. Not only was Kurt extremely popular, he was also friends with many of the people who constantly made Blaine's life a misery at school. And judging from the cheerleader's past behaviour towards him, it seemed likely that Kurt would never have kissed him if he had known who he was.

Blaine's throat was dry, his heart pounding, as he walked through the corridors of McKinley. He looked around nervously, hoping for yet half dreading the sight of Kurt. He wondered if Kurt would recognise him when he saw him—if he would realise what had happened. Perhaps their eyes would meet as they passed each other in the hallway. Kurt would casually glance over at him and then stop, remembering their passionate kiss under the stars, and he would realise finally that Blaine was the boy he'd always been waiting for. He'd say something cheesy like "oh there you are" or "I've been looking for you forever." Blaine could barely pay attention in class, unable to keep his imagination from inventing endless scenarios in which Kurt professed his newfound love for him. He had never been less interested in history or chemistry. However, after the entire morning had passed without Blaine once catching a glimpse of Kurt's flawless hair or unfairly tight pants, he began to wonder if perhaps the cheerleader had transferred and nobody had told him (not that anybody _would_ tell him—but still, surely he would have heard something by now).

At lunch break he sat down at the end of a table by himself, as usual, and started to eat, when a familiar voice sounded behind him.

"You totally should have been there," Kurt said from the next table. "I can't believe you missed it."

Blaine's heart began to beat faster and he listened in, tuning out the rest of the sounds in the refectory.

Mercedes Jones, another cheerleader, replied: "Believe me, I would have rather been there than sick in bed. Now spill. What happened?"

Kurt took a breath and then launched into his story. "Okay so I met this really hot guy, like really hot. He had these big, dark eyes and perfectly chiselled cheekbones. You wouldn't believe. Anyway, he spilled his drink on me by accident and then spent the next ten minutes fussing over me—it was totally adorable—and then we went outside and made out under the stars. And he was all like 'I hope I didn't ruin your shirt', which he kind of did, but I didn't care at all because wow, he was gorgeous."

Blaine dropped his fork, his mouth hanging open as he listened. He couldn't believe that Kurt was actually talking about _him_: Blaine Anderson, the school's resident nerd and loser. Blaine Anderson, who until Saturday night had never so much as held hands with another guy. He felt a pang of anxiety as he realised that Kurt must have been _really_ drunk if he thought Blaine was that good-looking. He had been passing Blaine in the corridor for two years without once noticing Blaine's dark eyes or chiselled cheekbones.

"Oh sweetie, you are _such_ a romantic," Mercedes said with feigned disgust. "Did you get his number?"

"Yep," Kurt said happily. "I haven't called him yet though. I dunno if it would be weird? I've never actually hooked up with someone like that before—I mean like seriously." He suddenly sounded unsure.

"Babe, you're hot, I'm sure he's totally into you," Mercedes reassured him. "He wouldn't have kissed you if he wasn't."

"Yeah," Kurt said uncertainly. "Maybe I'll send him a text or something and see if he wants to meet again."

"Go for it. Now that I'm dating Shane, you're the only single person on the squad. It's not good for your reputation."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well it's not like I can date anybody here, can I?"

They began talking about other things, and Blaine tuned out. He felt like he was in shock. _Kurt Hummel _thought he was gorgeous. _Kurt Hummel_ was going to text him. He immediately pulled out his phone and stared hopefully at the screen, then – realising this was stupid, shoved it back in his bag again. He stood up and decided to head to his next class to give himself time to calm down again before he needed to focus on schoolwork. His heart was pounding so loudly that he was sure other people could hear it.

It was only when he reached the door of his maths classroom that he realised this was the only class he shared with Kurt. Blaine was in the grade below Kurt, but he had been taking an advanced class at Dalton Academy, his old school, and when he transferred to McKinley he discovered that he had already covered all of the material for his grade level. Principle Figgins had allowed him to join one of the maths classes in the grade above. Blaine suddenly changed track and headed towards the library instead. He didn't want Kurt to think that he was waiting for him. If Kurt did recognise him from the party, he wanted to seem completely cool and nonchalant about the whole affair. In other words, the exact opposite of what he was feeling.

Blaine had planned to get a head start on his homework in the library, but instead he found himself sitting at a desk and staring avidly at his phone in case a text from Kurt appeared. "This is ridiculous," he told himself as he tried to force his brain to focus on something else other than the head cheerleader. It was hopeless. Glancing at his watch, he realised that his class was about to start, so he shoved his unopened textbook back in his back and sped back down the corridor to the classroom. Just as he was approaching the door, something collided with his legs and sent him sprawling. He landed face down on the floor with a cry of pain, glasses askew, his back splitting open and spilling books everywhere.

"You dropped your books, loser," the taunting voice of Dave Karofsky said from behind him. There was laughter and the sound of a high five. Blaine grabbed his glasses and replaced them just in time to see Kurt and Santana waltz by into the classroom, apparently oblivious to his suffering. He sat up and gathered up his books, his face flushed with humiliation.

"It's not like you to be late, Blaine," the teacher observed as he entered the class a minute after it had begun. Every face in the room turned to look at him. Several girls in the front row giggled as he passed. Blaine seated himself at an empty desk at the back and dropped his huge pile of books on the desk. His face was still burning.

The lesson seemed to take hours. Blaine kept glancing up every few minutes to stare longingly at the back of Kurt's head, though he decided to stop after accidently catching Santana's eye when the cheerleader had turned around to flash a smile at a football player in the back row. He hurriedly looked down at his work and hoped that Santana wouldn't notice the blush that was spreading across his face.

When the bell finally rang he stood up quickly and sped out the door. He headed down the corridor to his locker to drop off a textbook that he didn't need that night. To his dismay Kurt and Santana followed him, pausing outside Kurt's locker which was not far from Blaine's.

"Don't ask me, I wasn't paying attention," Santana was saying to Kurt.

"I don't know how I'm going to get all this homework done on top of cheerio practise and my social life," Kurt replied. "And if this thing with this guy works out, I'm going to have a lot less free time."

Blaine's heart began to race. _This thing with this guy._ Kurt was talking about him. Kurt wanted something to happen between them. He slid his textbook into his locker, hand shaking slightly, and risked a glace at Kurt. Unluckily, Santana looked up at the same moment and caught him staring.

"Quit staring, four eyes," Santana called out. "Your crush is sweet but pathetic. Kurt doesn't date losers like you."

Blaine felt like he had been hit in the face with a slushie. Kurt was standing there staring at him impassively, as though he'd never seen him before in his life, one eyebrow raised slightly in a classic judgemental Kurt Hummel expression. Blaine slammed his locker shut and turned away, trying to hold back tears as he walked down the corridor towards the exit. He couldn't believe that he had been so stupid to think that Kurt would recognise him, that Kurt would equate him with the attractive, perfect guy he believed he had met at the party. Of course Kurt had no interest in him. And if he did find out that it was Blaine who he had kissed on Saturday night, he would most likely be horrified. Popular cheerleaders didn't make out with losers.

Blaine spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in bed with a pile of homework and a box of tissues. He had never felt worse before in his life. For one moment he had truly believed that something amazing might happen to him. But he was still just Blaine, nerdy and unpopular and unlikely to get a date before he was twenty-five. At 10 pm he shoved his books off his bed and curled up under the covers. Just as he was falling asleep, his phone made a buzzing sound as it vibrated on the table beside him. He threw a hand out and felt around until he found it, squinting at the bright screen.

_Kurt_  
>'Hey, we met on Saturday night. I don't remember everything that happened, so I'm just checking to make sure that this is still okay and that I didn't force your number out of you or anything.'<p>

Blaine stared at the message, his heartbeat quickening. He paused for what felt like an hour, caught in indecision, before hastily typing out a message and sending it before he could change his mind.

_Blaine_  
>'Well, you were kind of insistent about giving me your number, but I wasn't exactly complaining. It's Kurt, right?'<p>

After a few minutes his phone vibrated again as another message came through.

_Kurt_**  
><strong>'Yep. What's your name? I don't remember if I asked you?'

Blaine chewed his lip and stared at the screen. If he typed 'Blaine' Kurt would realise who he was and stop texting. There weren't exactly an abundance of Blaines at McKinley to get confused with. Still, Kurt was interested in the person he thought he'd met at the party. If Blaine could pretend to be that person, then maybe he would have a chance with Kurt. He paused for another moment, heart pounding with nerves, and then typed out a response.

_Blaine_**  
><strong>'I'm Daniel. Nice to meet you.'

He only had to wait a few seconds until the reply appeared on his screen.

_Kurt_:  
>'The pleasure is all mine, believe me.'<p>

Blaine's heart skipped a beat as he read the message. He pressed the reply button and then spent a few minutes trying to think about how Daniel would answer.

_Blaine_**  
><strong>'I really hope I didn't ruin your shirt. It looked great on you. Is there some way I can make it up to you?'

_Kurt_**  
><strong>'I think I can salvage it, so you don't owe me anything. Unless you'd like to take me up on that offer of a dinner at Breadstix. You'd be paying of course.'

Blaine stared at the screen. Seconds turned into minutes as he simultaneously rejoiced and tried not to hyperventilate.

_Blaine_**  
><strong>'Are you asking me out?'

Kurt's reply took a little longer than his previous ones.

_Kurt_:  
>'Maybe it's too soon. We can spend some time getting to know each other until my shirt is restored and then you can take us both out. ;)'<p>

Blaine couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. Hoping it wouldn't show, he typed out a response and sent it.

_Blaine_:  
>'That sounds perfect. I have to sleep now, but it's been nice chatting with you again. Goodnight xox'<p>

Thirty seconds passed, and then—

_Kurt_**  
><strong>'Goodnight Daniel.'

Blaine turned his phone off and lay awake for another twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling. His heart was still racing and he felt tingly all over. What had he got himself into?


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Sorry this chapter took so long! Uni got super busy and I'm still trying to figure out how to write this story. Turns out integrating text-message conversations into prose is more challenging than I expected. So I apologise for my clunky writing. I also feel I should point out that this story is 100% silly, just in case you thought it was supposed to be a serious fic. :D

* * *

><p>Blaine was in the auditorium, packing up one of Rachel's elaborate sets after glee practise, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the message quickly, his heart beating a little faster when he saw who it was from.<p>

_Kurt_  
>'So how come I haven't seen you around before? Do you regularly frequent Andrew's house parties? Have I just been blind all this time?'<p>

Blaine chewed his lip as he left the stage and sat down in the front row. He hadn't decided yet how much of the truth he was going to tell and how much he was going to reveal.

_Blaine_  
>'Saturday was my first time at Andrew's. I usually hang out with a different crowd.'<p>

Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Even if the only 'crowd' he hung out with was Glee club and he hardly ever saw them outside of school.

_Kurt_  
>'Ah, I see. Did you enjoy your debut? I seem to recall that you left early without saying goodbye.'<p>

Blaine felt a pang of guilt. He had wanted to text Kurt and apologise for leaving so abruptly, but his anxiety had got the better of him.

_Blaine_  
>'Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I got a call. Family emergency. I wanted to text you the next day but you were pretty drunk and I didn't know if you'd remember what happened.'<p>

He spent the next few minutes suspended in anxiety, hoping that Kurt would accept the excuse. After about five minutes the reply came through.

_Kurt_  
>'How could I forget the best kiss of my life?' ;)<p>

Right. Blaine rolled his eyes. Now Kurt was just flirting with him. There was no way that a sloppy, drunken make-out session could count as Kurt Hummel's best kiss. Not that flirting wasn't a good sign. Blaine's lips twitched as he tried not to smile.

_Blaine _  
>'You flatter me. I don't deserve that honour.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Sorry, that's for me to decide. Was everything okay? The family emergency, I mean.'<p>

He had to think for a moment before replying.

_Blaine_  
>'Yeah, it was. In the end. My brother had an accident and got hurt, but he's okay now. Too bad he had to interrupt what was turning out to be a really good night.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Now you're flattering me. ;) So how do you know Andrew then? You're in school, right? Just thought I'd check.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Friend of a friend. And yes, I'm in school.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Me too. Though you probably realised that, since you were sober when we met.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Only because you made me spill my drink.' ;)<p>

"What are you doing?" a voice said from behind him. Blaine jumped violently and looked up to see Rachel approaching.

"Nothing," he said guiltily. "I mean, texting. A guy. I'm just texting a guy." He tried to sound as though this was something he did every day.

Rachel looked interested. "Ooh, a cute guy? Where did you meet him?"

Rachel was the only person who knew about Blaine's sexuality. This was only because she had tried to set him up with an obnoxiously rich girl in her grade called Sugar who apparently only dated people who she felt sorry for, and Blaine had been forced to provide a reason for politely declining.

"At a party on Saturday," he replied. "He was really cute. And really drunk. But he gave me his number and now we're texting."

Rachel's face had fallen. "A party? _Blaine_, we promised each other that if one of us was ever invited to a social event we would make _sure_ to invite the other one."

Blaine vaguely remembered making such a promise back when he had first met Rachel and they had both commiserated about their depressing social lives. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. But it was one of my brother's things, and I didn't even want to go. I thought it would be terrible."

"I gather that it wasn't terrible, though?"

"Nope," Blaine said, a dreamy look crossing his face as he remembered the events of Saturday night. "I mean, yeah, it was, but then I met this guy. And we, you know, we kissed." He tried to sound offhand.

Rachel gripped his arm. "You kissed a boy? Blaine, this is big! Tell me everything."

Blaine shrugged. "There's not much to tell. I accidentally spilled my drink on his shirt and had to steal him another one from Andrew's room and then he dragged me outside and practically threw himself on me. It happened really fast. But then Nat got himself into a fight with this footballer and I had to take him home. I can't believe my brother ruined the best night of my life."

"Too bad," Rachel said. "I wish you'd invited me though. Dating opportunities have been very thin on the ground now that Finn and I are no longer McKinley High's It Couple."

Blaine rolled his eyes. Rachel would never stop going on about the one time that she and Finn Hudson, quarterback on the football team, had briefly dated. Rachel was sure that Finn still harboured feelings for her, but Blaine suspected that the only reason Finn hadn't quit glee was that that he was still harbouring feelings for his other ex, Quinn Fabray. Who was currently dating Sam. The relationship dramas of his fellow glee clubbers made Blaine's head ache.

"Sorry. I will next time though," Blaine said. He hoped there wouldn't be a next time. The only thing he could think of worse than attending party on his own was attending a party with Rachel Berry. He glanced down at his phone again. There were two messages.

_Kurt_  
>'You mean only because you ran into me and made me make you spill your drink. ;)'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Daniel? Are you still there?'<p>

Blaine hurriedly typed out a reply.

_Blaine_  
>'Sorry. A friend distracted me. I have to go now, but we'll talk later, okay?'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Okay. See you!'<p>

Blaine spent the rest of the week buzzing with the secret knowledge that at any time—whenever he wanted—he could take out his phone and casually send a message to the boy of his dreams. This was even more momentous considering that he was a social outcast and the boy of his dreams was the most popular guy in the school, who (apart from a slushie to the face) had never before acknowledged his existence. The idea that nobody else knew or suspected that he flirted with Kurt Hummel via text message was so satisfying that he didn't even mind when Karofsky shoved him into his locker three times in one day. Nothing anybody did to him could change the fact that Kurt was interested in him—that Kurt laughed at his jokes and stayed up late texting him because he didn't want to say goodnight and go to sleep. The thought made Blaine feel fuzzy inside. He frequently found himself drifting off in classes that he usually paid attention to and replaying their latest conversations in his head. Kurt was clearly not as studious as Blaine, as he texted Blaine most often during school hours.

By the time that Tuesday arrived again they had fallen into a sort of routine, with Kurt texting first as soon as he become bored with his morning classes. Blaine found it much harder to concentrate on what his teachers were saying now that he spent every morning waiting for Kurt to get bored and text him. He stared dreamily out the window, picturing Kurt's perfect blue eyes and his adorable smile. Finally his phone buzzed. He slid it out of his pocket and glanced down at it under the desk.

_Kurt_  
>'Are you in class right now?'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Yes. History. You?'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Spanish. Unfortunately.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'You don't like Spanish?'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'I have nothing against the language, but the teacher has held a grudge against me ever since I dropped out of his glee club in sophomore year.'<p>

Blaine stared at his phone. This was new information. He been in glee club for over a year and no one had ever mentioned that Kurt had once been a member too. And Mr Shue had certainly never mentioned a grudge against the head cheerleader. He typed out his response carefully, hoping to find out more.

_Blaine_  
>'Does this have a story? Or did you just not like glee club?'<p>

Kurt responded after a few minutes

_Kurt_  
>'It's not much of a story. I auditioned for the cheerleading team and the schedules clashed.'<p>

Blaine considered asking how long Kurt had been in glee for, but he was wary of accidentally revealing information about himself. He decided not to pursue the topic right at that moment. Still, he was too curious about Kurt's motives not to try and subtly dig for information.

_Blaine_  
>'I'm sure the teacher understands. You've got to do what you love.'<p>

He waited for more than ten minutes for Kurt's reply.

_Kurt_  
>'Exactly.'<p>

Blaine didn't know what else to say so he tried to refocus on the lesson. It was difficult to concentrate while his mind was buzzing with the knowledge that Kurt Hummel might have once a glee loser just like him. After another ten minutes had passed his phone buzzed again.

_Kurt_  
>'Are you still there? Did class suddenly get interesting?'<p>

Blaine realised that Kurt had been waiting for him to say something. He quickly typed out a response.

_Blaine_  
>'Yep. I'm just imagining the look of joy on my mother's face if I told her I made out with a cheerleader.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Oh. Unsupportive parents, huh? :('<p>

Blaine didn't want to mention that he hadn't actually come out to his parents yet. Still, if his mother's constant inquiries about the girls in his life were any indication, he didn't think the conversation would go down well.

_Blaine_  
>'You could say that.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'I'm lucky. My Dad's really cool. He even phoned up the school and got angry when Mr Shue wouldn't let me sing 'Defying Gravity' at Sectionals.'<p>

Blaine raised his eyebrows in disbelief and tried to think of what to say. He was having trouble believing that this Kurt was the same person who strutted down the corridors in his cheerios uniform casting pitying looks upon those less popular than him. People like Blaine, who wore bowties and liked to sing Broadway songs.

_Blaine_  
>'So you're a singer? And a musical theatre fan?'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Yes and yes.'<p>

This was definitely a surprise. Blaine was sure that Kurt would never admit that he liked musical theatre within hearing of his friends at school, and yet he had told Blaine without appearing to be embarrassed. Before now Blaine had mostly been interested in Kurt because of his amazing body. He had never guessed that he and the head cheerleader might have things in common. Maybe there was more to Kurt than his cheerios uniform and his popularity.

_Blaine_  
>'I love Wicked. I kind of wish I had the range to sing Defying Gravity.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'You sing too?'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Frequently. Much to the dismay of my family.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'I'm sure you have an amazing voice.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Try telling that to my brother.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Introduce me and I will. :)'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'You haven't even heard me sing. I could be terrible.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Or you could be amazing. And judging from your speaking voice I'm going to guess that it's the latter.'<p>

Blaine stopped, realising what this meant.

_Blaine_  
>'You remember my voice?'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Of course I do. I wasn't *that* drunk.'<p>

_And now I can never talk in math class again_, Blaine thought as he typed out a reply. Unless his voice was just as hazy in Kurt's memory as his face apparently was.

_Blaine_  
>'Yeah, sure you weren't, Mr You're-Gorgeous-Let's-Make-Out.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'I didn't hear any complaints from you.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'That's because I wasn't complaining.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Maybe you should sing for me. Then I can judge your singing-ability.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Maybe I will. One day.'<p>

After his last class Blaine made his way to the choir room for Glee practise. He was pleased (but not surprised) to see Rachel already there warming up.

"Hi," he said as she looked up. "Hey I heard something interesting today. Apparently Kurt Hummel used to be in Glee club."

Rachel nodded and stopped singing. "Oh yes. Both he and Mercedes were in Glee during their freshman year. At the beginning of their sophomore year they both complained that they weren't getting enough solos and defected to the cheerios. It was all very melodramatic."

This was slightly different to Kurt's version of the story. "But Kurt doesn't sing with the cheerios," Blaine said, dumping his bag down beside a seat.

"He used to," Rachel replied. "But now he's so caught up with status and popularity that he's forgotten the joy of song. It's a tragic story."

Before she could continue on one of her famed Rachel Berry rants, the rest of the Glee club members began to arrive and they were forced to take their seats. Mr Shuester scribbled the word 'Sectionals' on the whiteboard and turned around to face them with a look of excitement on his face that Blaine usually associated with the announcement of a new Journey song that they hadn't yet performed. He started to tune out as Mr Shue launched his usual spiel.

"As you all know, sectionals are fast approaching. Now I know that our last public performance didn't go exactly as planned, but I'm convinced that practising in front of an audience will give us the edge that we didn't have last year. I've spoken to Figgins and he's agreed to allow us to perform in front of the school again."

There was a collective groan from the Glee clubbers.

"But Mr Shue, last time we performed they threw food at us," Tina protested from beside Blaine.

"I'm still emotionally traumatised from that experience," Artie added. "I haven't been able to touch spaghetti for weeks."

Mr Shuester held his hands up to silence them. "I know you're reluctant after last time, and that's why we're not going to perform in the cafeteria again. But this will be a valuable opportunity to gauge audience reaction to our song selections as well as providing some of our less experienced members with a chance to test their skills in front of an audience. Ms Pillsbury suggested that I've been favouring certain members of the choir at competitions and neglecting the talents of others. Which is why I've decided to give the solo to our newest member, Blaine.

"What?" Blaine said, snapping out of his reverie. "Me? Why?"

Santana cut Mr Shuester off before he could reply, folding her arms. "Yes, Mr Shue. Why him?"

Mr Shuester turned to Blaine. "Because we've all heard you sing in the choir room and I'm sure everybody will agree that you have great potential as a performer. I want to feature you at sectionals. This will give you an opportunity to practise in front of an audience."

"I don't think I could—I mean, there are so many other people who deserve that opportunity," Blaine babbled. "I really couldn't." The idea of performing in front of the entire school filled him with fear. Not only would it make him more of a target to the slushie-wielding footballers, but he would risk Kurt recognising him from the party and realising who he really was. His whole plan would fall apart before it had really begun. Kurt would surely never speak to him again if he knew that Blaine was unpopular and had lied to him to gain his trust.

"Here's a better idea," Santana said. "Instead of giving the solo to a complete loser, why don't we feature somebody who's actually popular and has a chance of getting us through this performance alive."

Blaine nodded in agreement. "I agree with Santana. I wouldn't want to make things worse for us than they could be."

"I also have reservations about this decision," Rachel cut in. "Not that I don't think Blaine is a fantastic singer and deserves to get a solo at some point, but I think that if we're going to perform in front of the school we need somebody more experienced and capable of dealing with the pressure that such a performance entails. I would gladly put myself in the firing line by offering my talent in his place."

"That's very noble of you Rachel," Mr Shuester said, "but the whole point of this performance is to allow those less experienced than you to have a moment in the spotlight. And Santana, you were featured in our last public performance and that didn't stop your peers from pelting potato tots at you. No, my mind is made up. I'd like Blaine to sing this solo." He turned to Blaine. "Unless there's any valid reason why you can't perform?"

Blaine swallowed and shook his head. He seemed to have lost his voice.

"Good. That's settled then. I'd like to see you after the rehearsal to discuss song choices. Now, if you'll remember from last week I asked you all to pick your favourite Journey song we've performed and provide an argument for why we should perform it at sectionals."

Blaine left the choir room an hour and a half later with a long list of potential songs to choose from. Considering that he had never heard of most of them, he didn't think it was likely that he'd find something that he'd be comfortable singing in front of a hostile audience. Then again, the thought of telling Mr Shuester that his taste in music was terrible was equally terrifying.

As soon as he entered the corridor he was cornered by Rachel, who had apparently been lurking outside the door. She snatched the song list from his hand and perused it, eyes zipping up and down the page. "Just as I thought!" she announced. "He's planning on training you as an alternative male lead. No wonder Finn looked so put out."

"Can I have that back?" Blaine said glumly. "I need to go home and choose which of Mr Shue's favourite songs is least likely to start a riot when we perform on Friday."

Rachel handed back the piece of paper and patted him on the shoulder. "You needn't bother. I'll convince Mr Shue that this is a terrible idea and that he should give the solo to me instead."

"Right. Thanks," Blaine said, shuffling past her and heading in the direction of his locker.

He spent the evening going through Mr Shuester's list of songs in the hope that he would find something that he would enjoy singing. It didn't look promising. By the time that he had listened to the final song on youtube he was thoroughly depressed about the whole situation. There was no way that he would be able to perform in front of the school without Kurt recognising him and realising who he was. He doubted that Kurt would be particularly pleased to discover that his crush was a Glee club loser. Blaine lay back on his bed and stared at his ceiling, imagining possible scenarios. Kurt would be horrified if he found out that he had drunkenly kissed a school nerd. He would probably ask Blaine not to contact him again, or worse—throw another slushie in his face.

Perhaps he could get away with faking sick on the day of the performance. Or maybe he should just transfer schools again and pretend that nothing had happened between him and Kurt Hummel. Rolling over onto his stomach, he picked up his phone.

_Blaine_  
>'What do you think is the most romantic way to ask someone out?'<p>

He chewed his lip as he waited for the reply. After about five minutes his phone lit up.

_Kurt_  
>'Arrange to meet them in an open space, and then release a hundred balloons with 'be mine' written on them into the air.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'What, really?'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Of course. It's the only way to do it.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Or were you being serious?'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Maybe. Okay, what about you? If someone wanted to ask you out, what would be the best way?'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'It depends on the situation. If it was someone I'd only just met, a causal suggestion of a date would be fine. But if it was someone I knew well or had liked for a while, then I could see myself appreciating a grand romantic gesture.'<p>

Blaine smiled. He pressed reply and then paused, trying to decide whether to continue with this conversation. Heart racing, he typed out a response and then pressed send.

_Blaine_  
>'So tell me—if you had feelings for someone, would it be appropriate to sing to them? Or is serenading too old fashioned?'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Serenading is definitely not too old fashioned.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Good to know.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Is there an intent behind all these questions?'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'Nope. Just collecting information. For future reference.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'So if you meet someone who wants to ask me out, you can tell him that I appreciate grand romantic gestures.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'I'll definitely mention it.'<p>

_Kurt_  
>'Great. Then I'll leave my future relationship in your hands.'<p>

_Blaine_  
>'You won't regret it.'<p>

Blaine switched off his bedside light and lay in bed, smiling. Maybe singing in front of the whole school wasn't such a bad idea. If only he could find a decent song that expressed how he felt, then perhaps he could reveal his identity and impress Kurt at the same time. He was going to have to tell Kurt sooner or later anyway, so he might as well do it with style. Blaine lay awake for nearly an hour, ideas racing through his mind. As much as performing terrified him, he had to admit that he was a pretty good singer. And Kurt had said that he wanted to hear Blaine sing.

Besides, Kurt _liked _him. A week of flirty texting had demonstrated that. If Kurt really had feelings for him, then his appearance or his lack of popularity wouldn't matter. It would be like _Beauty and the Beast_. Or _Pretty in Pink, _except Kurt was Blane and he was Andie.

"My life is a romantic movie," Blaine whispered to the darkness as he finally closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, OH GOSH. My coursework and my thesis own my soul. :( Also I edited this chapter 500 times before I was happy with it. At least it's not terrible now? Anyway, hope you enjoy! (And yes, I suffer guilt at night from the things I put nerd!Blaine through. I just want to wrap him up in a blanket and hold him forever.)

* * *

><p>As Blaine walked through the hallway at McKinley the next day he couldn't believe that he had ever considered Mr Shuester's proposal. He had managed to survive his year and a half at McKinley relatively unscathed so far, and this was mainly due to his efforts to keep his head down and not draw too much attention to himself. He was already harassed by the football team; performing a solo for glee club at a school assembly would put him on the radar of every slushie-wielding bully in the school—particularly if he sang a song to another boy. All of his romantic plans from the night before suddenly seemed ridiculous and naïve. Experience had taught him how dangerous a public declaration of his sexuality could be, and he wouldn't just be risking his own safety: he would also be putting Kurt's on the line. Despite the fact that Kurt's status as head cheerleader apparently exempted from the sort of homophobia that Blaine was exposed to every day, Blaine was willing to bet that Kurt's popularity would not benefit from been serenaded publicly by one of the school's biggest nerds.<p>

Without the motivation provided by his romantic fantasy, the idea of performing a solo no longer seemed remotely attractive. So many things could go wrong—and if they did, the whole school would be there to watch him choke. Blaine glanced nervously around at the people passing him and tried to imagine what it would be like if they were all gathered together in one place, staring at him. Just the thought made his knees feel weak. And this time he wouldn't have a cafeteria tray to hide behind if anybody decided to throw things at him. Or laugh. The familiar, bitter feeling of self-disgust settled in his stomach. He was a coward. As much as he loved singing, he knew that he would never be confident enough to be a lead singer. He would never be able to overcome his fear, not with practise nor with unrealistic fantasies of romance and happy endings. Mr Shuester would have to find somebody else to sing the solo.

"Any luck with Mr Shue's list?" a voice piped up behind him. Blaine jumped, experiencing a stab of fear, and then relaxed when he saw that it was only Rachel.

"No," he said despondently. "I can't decide what's worse. Eighties rap or a medley of Journey's greatest hits."

Before Rachel could reply, somebody grabbed Blaine by the collar and slammed him backwards into a locker.

"Nice bow tie, loser," Dave Karofsky hissed in his ear.

Blaine shut his eyes, muscles tensing in anticipation, but the football player released him. Blaine listened to the retreating footsteps and breathed a small sigh. His legs were shaking. He could still smell the tang of Karofsky's aftershave lingering in the air beside him. When he opened his eyes again, he was met with a mixture of shock and concern on Rachel's face.

"This is ridiculous," she said passionately. "I can _see_ how terrified you are. I'm going to go and speak to Mr Shue right now and convince him to change his mind. He can't force you to sing a solo if you don't want to." She turned on her heels and marched away down the corridor.

Blaine tried to steady his breathing. His back was aching from where his spine had been slammed against a metal lock. Blinking back tears, he detached himself from the locker and he walked shakily down the corridor to his next class. Rachel was right. He was just too scared to make himself more of a target by singing a solo in front of the school. All his plans of serenading Kurt were laughable. His life _wasn't_ a romantic movie. He was a loser, not a hero. He wasn't supposed to get the perfect guy and live happily ever after.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. Blaine barely noticed any of it, his mind wrapped in a cold haze of disappointment. By the time he reached his second last class, math, he was so depressed that couldn't even appreciate the black-and-white striped pants that Kurt was wearing that day. For some reason, Kurt seemed equally as distracted. He was absently scribbling in his book and staring out the window with a dreamy smile.

"What's up with you?" Blaine heard Santana ask when Kurt failed to reply to her greeting.

"Oh, nothing," Kurt said. "Just planning my future wedding."

Santana threw him a disgusted look. "Urgh. What is wrong with you? You don't even know this guy."

"I know that he's perfect," Kurt said, sounding slightly smug.

"You haven't even been on a date. For all you know, he could be some creep."

Kurt smiled serenely and twirled his pen in his right hand. "He's sweet and he likes me. And he didn't look like a creep when I met him. You're just sour because Puckerman keeps making eyes at Lauren Zizes."

"Whatever," Santana said, turning away from him as their teacher entered the room.

Blaine was suddenly alert for the first time in hours, his heart thumping so hard that it felt like it was trying to leap out of his chest. He looked around nervously, hoping that nobody had noticed his sudden revival. It wasn't fair that Kurt could make him feel this way with a few casual remarks. It wasn't fair that Kurt Hummel _existed_, that he had randomly kissed Blaine at a party, that their texting conversations now consumed his waking existence and caused everything else in his life to appear small and trivial. But he did exist. And this _was_ happening. Happening for real.

Blaine gave up concentrating on the lesson and spent the next hour staring at the back of Kurt's fabulously styled hair and planning their future together. They would live in a small apartment in a city until they had enough money to buy something bigger and more stylish. Kurt would propose on their three-year anniversary after a candle-lit dinner, and they would get married next spring. Kurt would plan most of the wedding of course, but Blaine would be in charge of organising the music. He began to compile a mental list of appropriate songs.

A small twinge of guilt interrupted his fantasying. Santana did have a point. Pretending to be somebody else just to gain Kurt's trust was a little creepy, especially since Kurt had no idea that his mystery guy was sitting two rows behind him. But his plan had worked so far: Kurt was interested in him, not just as a friend but as a potential _boyfriend_. And Kurt thought that Daniel was going to serenade him. Ignoring his uneasy conscience, Blaine hesitantly allowed himself to recall his plans from last night. It could still work. After all, nobody _else_ had to know that he was serenading Kurt.

By the end of the lesson Blaine had made his decision. This was a moment that he would return to in later years: he had to take this opportunity _now_, or he never would. Could he really spend the rest of his life paralysed by fear and self-doubt? If he didn't have the courage to sing a solo for glee club, how could he have the courage to confess his feelings to Kurt? He was sure that if he backed out now, he would continue to back out until Kurt eventually lost interest or realised that he was not the confident, sweet guy Kurt thought he was. Blaine _wanted_ to be that guy. He wanted to serenade Kurt in front of the school and make him feel special. _"Daniel would do it,"_ he told himself as he made his way to his locker after class. _"And Kurt likes Daniel. If I can be Daniel when we're texting, surely I can be him in real life too?"_

He had just opened his locker after class when Rachel appeared at his side, beaming. "I'm pleased to announce that your worries are over!" she announced. "I talked to Mr Shue, and while he questioned my clearly altruistic motives he agreed to let me sing the solo on Friday instead of you."

Oh," Blaine said, feeling slightly awkward, "I've decided that I want to sing the solo after all. Thanks though," he added when Rachel's face fell. "That was really nice of you."

"Are—are you sure?" Rachel asked. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. You're already such a visible target, what with your hair gel helmet and glasses and the fact that you dress like my elderly grandfather."

Blaine frowned. "There's nothing wrong with my hair gel," he said, patting at his head to make sure that no stray curls had come loose. "It's fashionable."

"Well, anyway," Rachel said. "If you change your mind again, I'll be more than happy to stand in. I already have several ideas for a Journey medley that would guarantee us a win at Sectionals!"

"That sounds great," Blaine said. "I have to go." He escaped before Rachel could say anything else and headed to the staff room. Mr Shuester was sitting at one of the desks, talking to Coach Besite. Blaine cleared his throat and then stopped, deciding to wait for an appropriate break in the conversation. After about ten minutes of hovering awkwardly beside the door, Mr Shuester finally looked up and noticed him.

"Ah, Blaine," Mr Shuester said as he walked over. Blaine opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. "You don't need to say anything. Rachel's explained the whole situation to me and I've given the solo to her. You're off the hook." He smiled and patted Blaine on the shoulder.

"Actually," Blaine said, "I was wondering if I could still do the solo."

Mr Shuester looked surprised. "Of course, if that's what you want."

Blaine nodded. His heart began to hammer distractingly. He forced himself to pause for a moment before continuing. "But I have two conditions."

"Alright. Let's hear them."

Blaine took a deep breath. "I want to choose my own song. And I want to perform outside."

Blaine stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to decide whether he needed another layer of gel to plaster down his unruly curls. Wednesday had turned into Thursday, and Thursday into Friday, before he had really had time to contemplate the consequences of his decision. Now that Friday morning had arrived it was too late to agonise over going through with it or not. He felt like he was running on adrenaline; all his energy was focused on preparing for what was ahead, leaving no mental space for his doubts.

Prompted by Rachel's comment about his outfits, he had decided to put aside his impressive collection of suspenders and vests and instead wear something less obviously, well, him. After twenty minutes of anxious deliberation he had finally settled on red pants and a plain black shirt—though he was unable to resist the temptation to add a bow tie to the ensemble. After all, he didn't want to completely change his style—just alter it enough that Kurt would look past the 'nerd' stereotype and see him as the person he had met at the party. His hair was far too unmanageable to wear it ungelled like he had that night, but he thought that he could possibly recreate the look by going without his glasses. It had taken some practise to insert his newly acquired disposable contact lenses. Now that they were successfully in place, he could definitely appreciate their advantages. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little exposed without the familiar weight of his glasses.

He checked his phone as he prepared to leave the house and smiled when he saw that there was a message from Kurt.

_Kurt**  
><strong>_'Jeans or TEH for Underground site safety-pin pants, which would look better with a Marc by Marc Jacobs button-up shirt? Not that it matters, since I'll just have to change into my cheerio uniform anyway.'

Blaine had no idea what TEH for Underground site safety-pin pants were, but he greatly approved of Kurt's newfound appreciation of jeans.

_Blaine  
><em>'Jeans. Though I'm sure you'd look amazing in either.'

His phone buzzed again as he sat down in the driver seat of his car.

_Kurt**  
><strong>_'Somebody's in a good mood. ;)'

_Blaine**  
><strong>_'I suffer from perpetual optimism. And something tells me that today's going to be a good day.'

By lunchtime it seemed that Blaine's prediction had been correct. Nobody had shoved him into a locker or made derisive comments about his altered appearance. He had managed to survive all of his morning classes without a single taunt from one of the football players. Now, as he stood at the top of the stone stairs in the quadrangle with Rachel, he found his stomach fluttering with nerves for the first time all day.

"You can still pull out, you know," Rachel said, massaging his shoulders. "Nobody would think less of you."

"I'm not going to pull out," Blaine replied. He felt as though he was reassuring himself more than answering Rachel. An uneasy, sick feeling had settled itself in the pit of his stomach and he had to work hard to try and ignore it. _"You can do this,"_ he told himself, struggling with the self-disgust that he always experienced when confronted with his fear. _"It's just the same as performing in the choir room."_

It was a warm day and the quadrangle was filled with people eating and talking in small groups. Blaine could see a large group of cheerios sitting at a table near the bottom of the stairs. He felt a wave of anxiety when he saw Kurt sitting at the end of the table. He was facing away form the others, typing something from his phone. _"Probably texting me," _Blaine thought. Somehow this thought made everything seem more real. He really _had_ spent the last two weeks texting Kurt Hummel—the captain of the cheerios. And now he was going to sing to Kurt in front of a whole crowd of his fellow students. A crowd of students who in a few minutes time would all be watching him.

As he was processing this realisation, he heard the drummer tapping his sticks to signal the beginning of the song.

"Gook luck!" Rachel said as she stepped backwards to join the other Glee club members on the stairs.

Blaine found himself frozen with fear. For a moment he thought time had stopped—and then he heard the brass section begin to play the introduction to the song. They sounded small and distant as though they were a long way away. His mouth was completely dry. _"Run," _a small voice in his mind was telling him. _"Don't be stupid! You can't do this!"_

He glanced over at his fellow Glee clubbers and couldn't miss the extremely pointed looks Rachel was giving him. It was now or never. The introduction was nearly over: if he didn't sing now, there wouldn't be another chance.

Before he could think any further, he made a split-second decision to slide down the first section of the bannister and dance his way to centre of the stairs. Feeling impressed that he had managed to pull that off (and earned an enthusiastic thumbs-up from Rachel), he forced his awkward movements into rhythm with the beat while his momentarily blank brain attempted to retrieve the lyrics to the song. He scanned the audience, his eyes resting on where the cheerios were sitting. _Kurt was looking at him._ He couldn't remember Kurt ever looking directly at him. Even when he had thrown that slushie at Blaine he hadn't bothered to glance in his direction. For the first time ever he had Kurt's undivided attention. And then—unexpectedly—everything felt right. He _could _do this. This was his song—and he was going to sing it for Kurt. Confidence blossomed inside him; he felt a sudden surge of energy that filled his chest with warmth and caused his skin to tingle. Feeling slightly giddy from the adrenaline rush, he launched into the first verse.

"_It's not unusual to be loved by anyone_

_It's not unusual to have fun with anyone_

_But when I see you hanging about with anyone_

_It's not unusual to see me cry_

_Oh, I wanna die."_

It was as though a part of him that he never knew existed had awoken. Suddenly he couldn't understand why he had been so nervous. Performing felt _amazing_. Even though he downplayed his talents in Glee rehearsals, it was hard to deny that he was a really good singer, and—if he could only stop feeling so awkward—probably a pretty good dancer too. And the best part was that nobody was throwing things at him. As Blaine looked out at the crowd of people, he could see that some of them were even smiling and nodding their heads in time with the music—clearly enjoying his performance. He felt a rush of dizzying emotion as he began the second verse.

"_It's not unusual to go out at any time _

_But when I see you out and about, it's such a crime _

_If you should ever wanna be loved by anyone _

_It's not unusual — it happens every day _

_No matter what you say _

_You find it happens all the time!_

_Love will never do _

_What you want it to _

_Why can't this crazy love be mine?"_

He deliberately avoided looking at Kurt as he sang, not wanting to give away the purpose of the performance. He would text Kurt later and say that the song was for him. As the musical interlude began to reach its end, he glanced to his left and was surprised to see Santana dancing beside him. She gave him a wide smile as she mimicked his dance moves. _"This wasn't part of the choreography,"_ he thought, frowning. He was even more confused when Santana began to beckon to somebody in the audience. Suddenly a line of cheerios appeared, jogging across the stairs from the left and forming a circle around him. Blaine just had time to register that each one was holding a familiar looking cup, before he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arms over his face.

It was like jumping into a freezing cold swimming pool. Icy water hit him from all angles, causing him to gasp out loud. His body tensed with shock. All Blaine could register was _cold_; suddenly he felt naked and exposed, as though he had been interrupted while showering. This was normally a private moment: a slushie facial behind the dumpsters outside the school, or in a crowded hallway where nobody was paying attention. Not out here with a hundred pairs of eyes staring at him. Somebody in the audience laughed. He had no idea if they were laughing at him or not.

Blaine stood there, shivering, as clumps of ice slid down his face and the back of his neck, leaving a sticky trail of whatever bright colour the cheerios had decided would best ruin his outfit. He couldn't process what had just happened. His brain seemed to have frozen from the icy slushie. The band behind him had stopped playing; in fact, the entire quadrangle had gone quiet. And then slowly—as he stood shaking uncontrollably with his eyes tightly shut—people began to talk again. Blaine wiped the sticky liquid from his eyes and opened them. The students who had been watching before had now turned away from him, pointedly ignoring his obvious suffering.

"Blaine! Are you okay?" Rachel said as she rushed up to him, her voice thick with concern.

Blaine didn't reply. He stared down at the table where the cheerios had been sitting earlier. It was empty.

"I can't believe Santana would sabotage our own performance!" Rachel said indignantly as she sponged purple slushie out of Blaine's hair. The girls had steered him away to the girls bathroom to get cleaned up as soon as he had recovered enough from shock. Too humiliated to venture into the boys locker room to shower, he had towelled himself dry, changed, and then meekly submitted to their attentions.

"You're not the only person who would kill to get a solo," Quinn replied, wiping Blaine's glasses clean and then handing them back to him.

"I would _never _attack a fellow Glee clubber just for the sake of a solo," Rachel announced, clearly outraged. "I may be ambitious, but I also maintain a high professional standards."

Blaine wasn't paying attention. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, feeling completely numb. His worst fears had come true. Instead of improving his self-confidence he had been humiliated in front of the entire school. He hadn't even been able to finish his song. And the worst thing was that Kurt was there and had seen everything. Or had he? As Blaine had avoided looking at Kurt throughout the entire performance, he had no idea when Kurt had left. A sickening thought occurred to him—what if Kurt had helped plan it? He was friends with Santana after all. And he had no way of knowing beforehand that Santana's rival in Glee club was the guy he texted every day. Swallowing and blinking back his tears, Blaine allowed the girls to fuss over him until they were satisfied that he was all right and then slipped away under the pretence of visiting the boys bathroom. He knew that Mr Shuester would be waiting for them in the choir room, but he couldn't face the idea of everybody's sympathy. Sure, they dealt with bullying simply by virtue of being in Glee club, but none of them had ever been slushied in the middle of a performance before. It was just another reminder that he was different—even from those who were also considered social outcasts.

The thought of facing the other students in his classes was equally as humiliating, so he decided to call it a day and just go home. His parents were both at work and wouldn't notice that he'd left school early. They probably wouldn't even notice that he was now wearing a different set of clothes than the ones he had put on that morning. After indulging in a very long, very warm shower, Blaine spent the afternoon curled up in bed, working his way through various homework tasks to distract himself from his misery. There were a few messages on his phone that Kurt had sent in the morning, but he decided to ignore them. Kurt probably wouldn't want to talk to him anymore anyway. The fact that he hadn't sent any messages after lunch was proof of that.

It was already dark outside when his phone buzzed for the first time since he had left school. He picked it up, expecting Rachel or Mike to have sent him a consoling message. To his surprise, he found that it was from Kurt. The message was equally perplexing.

_Kurt**  
><strong>_ 'Do you like school?'

Blaine stared at his phone. He didn't know what Kurt expected him to say. Was this some kind of trick? After a few minutes he sent a reply, feeling apprehensive.

_Blaine**  
><strong>_'Some days are better than others.'

Kurt's answer was almost instantaneous, suggesting that he had already typed it before Blaine replied.

_Kurt**  
><strong>_'I hate it. All everybody cares about here is status, as though their entire worth in life is determined by their high school popularity. Like we're not going to leave next year and forget that any of this ever happened.'

This was not what Blaine was expecting at all. He chewed his lip and doodled in the margin of his page while he tried to think of what to say. In the end he decided to feign ignorance.

_Blaine**  
><strong>_'What's up? Did something happen?'

This time Kurt didn't reply immediately. Blaine went back to his homework and became so engrossed in a math problem that he was startled when his phone buzzed again about fifteen minutes later. Heart hammering, he picked it up and read the message.

_Kurt**  
><strong>_'Some of the other cheerleaders asked me to help them slushie some glee kid in the middle of a performance today. I told them I didn't want to be part of it and they acted like I was the biggest killjoy who ever lived.'

Blaine had to read the message twice before he fully comprehended it. That was _it?_ Kurt was feeling crappy because his fellow cheerleaders had given him flack for not wanting to slushie a Glee loser? He resisted the urge to type 'Wow, your life must be so _hard_' and tried to think of something more constructive to say. After about ten minutes of inner turmoil he finally sent his message.

_Blaine**  
><strong>_'Was the kid okay?'

Kurt was clearly less concerned about this part of his story, as he replied straight away.

_Kurt_**_  
><em>**'I don't know. I didn't stay to watch.'

Blaine threw his phone across his bed and turned back to his math homework, unable to prevent tears from springing to his eyes. A lump had lodged itself in his throat and he tried to swallow it down. The last thing he wanted was to cry over Kurt. After all, Kurt clearly didn't care about him in real life. He was just another glee loser who was naturally a victim of popular people like Kurt. Somebody who wasn't even worth his attention. Bitterness settled in Blaine's stomach, adding to the heavy layer of disappointment that had been sitting there all afternoon. He felt sick and fatigued. After another ten minutes Blaine's phone buzzed again. He retrieved it grudgingly and read the message.

_Kurt_**_  
><em>**'I just don't understand why people have to be needlessly cruel.'

This at least was something they could agree on.

_Blaine_**_  
><em>**'Neither do I.'

He paused for a moment and then typed out another message.

_Blaine_**  
><strong>'Maybe they're just protecting their status by reminding everybody who's on top and who's not.'

There was no reply.

Feeling even worse than he did before, Blaine pushed his homework off his bed, got changed quickly, and buried under the covers. He turned his bedside lamp off and lay in the dark, his mind full of what Kurt had just told him. His fears from earlier had at least been alleviated: Kurt hadn't been involved in planning the slushie attack. Not only that—he had refused to take part in it. While Blaine was encouraged by this thought, he couldn't pretend to himself that Kurt was some kind of hero. After all, Kurt might have condemned the slushying, but he also hadn't done anything to stop it.

As he lay there in the dark, he realised something that made his heart beat a little faster: Kurt still had no idea who he was.


End file.
